Paying Debts
by SugarSnaps037
Summary: Watson gets into a little bit of gambleing trouble and Holmes has just the solution. Includes Holmes, Watson, and boxing ring. Purely friendship.
1. Prologue

**Hello all. This is a little fic I wrote a while ago and decided to post. For any of you who are waiting on my Merlin fic, I am so sorry for the delay. I'm working on it but school kinda got in the way for a while. This fic was already written just never typed.**

**Anywho, this little story had to do with Watson, Holmes and a boxing ring. Enjoy!**

Paying Debts

Sherlock Holmes mounted the stairs to 221B, pulling his jacket closer to ward off the chill of London's dreary weather. After just finishing an unexpectedly laborious case, he was ready for the delightful distractions of the various experiments that awaited him in his room. Not that the job was all that taxing for his mind. After all it took him mere seconds to deduce that the jewel he was hired to locate had not been stolen as his client had thought, but had indeed been taken by the client's husband. It turned out that the clasp had been broken, and the husband intended to fix it as a surprise birthday gift for his wife. Of course, this caused a bit of a stir between the pair and Sherlock found himself inexplicably pulled into the middle of it. Honestly, why anyone wanted to get married was beyond him. (Watson included)

So it was with weary eyes that Holmes gazed upon the slightly cracked door to his lodgings. God save the poor wretch who decided upon breaking into his home tonight. Holmes was hardly in the mood to grant mercy. Placing his back against the door, he listened for any sound that might give him a better idea as to what was occurring on the other side. Strangely, he heard nothing. No scuffling of feet, no fumbling of objects, only a faint breathing that he instantly recognized as Gladstone's. Well at least the pup was alright, most likely hadn't awoken at the intruder's presence. Watson was good enough to leave the dog citing something about not wanting Holmes not to get too lonely or some such nonsense. At any rate, it would seem that the perpetrator was no longer in the room. Just as well, Holmes would gather the facts, find the thief and retrieve the stolen items after a night's rest. Still… he couldn't shake the idea that someone was currently occupying his rooms.

"You needn't bother with stealth Holmes." An incredibly familiar voice called out. Holmes opened the door wide to reveal a very despondent looking Watson sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, his arms wrapped around his knees, and his head lying in his arms. Gladstone was lying at his feet looking equally depressed.

"I hadn't realized I left the door unlocked," said Holmes, still standing in the doorway. "I thought it was my gun I had forgotten."

Watson responded, never lifting his head "You did. It's sitting over on the coffee table. Mrs. Hudson out for the day, then?" For it was the only way Holmes could have known he left the door unlocked. Mrs. Hudson would have let him in had she been there.

"Out visiting her sister or something of the kind." He said "So what was the game this time; cards, or a roll of the dice perhaps?"

The doctor rolled his head to side so at least one eye could glare at Holmes "Your powers of perception never cease to amaze me. How the bloody hell did you deduce that!"

Sherlock smiled as he closed the door, "It was quite simple, really. Your slumped posture shows obvious signs of anguish. You have no visible wounds and even so, you are a doctor and would not come here for that. Furthermore, the lining of your pockets are sticking out slightly which tells me you have been hastily searching them for loose coins. And then of course, my dear Watson," he then crouched down to be level with his friend causing the doctor to peer up at him. "The last time I saw you this way, you had managed to lose two month's rent in a single hour." His mouth gave way to a coy smile to which Watson merely lowered his head and groaned. Sherlock stood, removed his coat, and grabbing his pipe made himself comfortable on his favorite chair.

"Mary and I had a row over it" Watson mumbled "She kicked me to the curb for the day."

Holmes mulled the idea over in his head. He did feel a bit of sympathy for his friend's current state but it had provided them with a rare occasion; A day for the boys just to be boys. Since the day the doctor had gotten married, their time together was always entirely too short. He certainly was not about to let Watson's sullen mood to ruin this fine stroke of luck. Having made up his mind, the detective jumped to his feet. Tugging lightly at Watson's arm as he went over to his coat, he said "Come along Watson. We mustn't waste time."

Watson glared at the man he considered to be his best friend. How was it possible that for all of the detective's observational skills, he missed the perfectly clear fact that Watson was not in the mood to travel anywhere? He was about to say as much when a coat, his coat, was thrust upon his person. "Holmes," he asked indignantly "What on earth are you thinking?"

Holmes turned from the door he was nearly out of to face the good doctor, "I, my dear boy," he all but cooed "am thinking of the perfect way to regain the money you have lost." With that he was gone, leaving a bewildered Watson to stare at the back of the door. He had followed Holmes through many of his harebrained adventures and more often than not they lead to trouble. That being said, Watson mysteriously found himself standing, placing on his hat and coat, and following Holmes down the stairs and out to the front of 221B. If whatever the detective was planning didn't work, it would at least provide a decent distraction. Of that, Watson was certain.

**Yay for the prologue!**

**I'll post the rest of the chapters soon. Let me know what you think so far though**

**Reviews definitely appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Round 2! Chapter one is up as promised**

**Oh and here is a disclaimer: I do not own these characters, unfortunately. Oh well, cheers to those who do.**

For some time the two gentlemen walked the various streets of London in companionable silence. Well, it would have been silent were it not for Holmes' humming. It was a jaunty Irish tune and one that was pleasing to Watson's ear, that is, until he realized exactly why it sounded so familiar. The detective had often hummed that exact tune when he decided upon visiting the ring.

Watson stopped Holmes short with his cane. "Holmes" he said "Are you taking us to a fight?"

"But of course." Was the reply "How else do you expect me to win back your money?" Holmes resumed walking whilst continuing his song. He moved so quickly that Watson was forced to jog in order to catch him.

"I won't have it Holmes!" He said, anger touching his features. "You take far too much punishment in those bouts and I certainly will not have you do it on my account."

Holmes allowed himself a slight smile at his friends concern "I am touched that you care for me so, good doctor, however being that you are my physician, you know perfectly well that I am capable of taking whatever they intend to dish out in that ring."

Watson huffed in protest, "This coming from the man who merely lies there as I do my best to patch him up."

"Oh stow your grievances, mother hen." Holmes came to a stop by a short grey building with a modest looking wood door at the front "Besides we are already here and it would be a shame to waste the trip."

Throwing his arms up in resignation, Watson leveled a weary glare at Holmes "We may as well go in. You'll do as you please anyhow"

"I'm glad to see you come to your senses, Watson." Sherlock threw his arm around the doctor's shoulders and led them through the door and down to basement where the matches would be held. Smoke greeted them as descended the stairs. A crowd of men were milling about, some drinking, some placing bets, and as it just so happened, the very same tune Holmes had been humming could be heard throughout the room. In the center of the room was a ring made of wood inside of which a fight between a slender yet fit looking youth and a broad shouldered boulder of a man was taking place. At the moment, the latter seemed he would be the clear victor in the bout.

A thin, dark haired man dressed in a fine suit such that he stuck out among the patrons, sauntered up to the pair. "Ahh, monsieur Holmes et monsieur Watson, such a pleasure to see you return to the bouts. Shall you be putting your hat in ze ring tonight?" he asked, a glimmer of hope showing in his eyes. It was no secret to the three of them that monsieur Trouvaux, the owner of this "establishment", made a decent sum when Holmes was in a good mood.

Sherlock showed his enthusiasm as he clapped Trouvaux on the back, "My good sir that is exactly why we came here. The usual?" He said turning to Watson.

"I'm going to need a bit more than that, I'm afraid." He whispered back.

To his credit Holmes appeared unfazed as he said, "Make it double then. I'm feeling formidable tonight."

A broad smile stretched across Trouvaux's lips "Manifique! I believe you shall fight in ze next round. Buford is crushing all other takers today. Very, how you say, dull."

Holmes smiled in delight and patted the man on the shoulder once again. "Well then," he said, "I shall liven up the entertainment for you."

Trouvaux seemed quite pleased as he scurried over to the other patron's to collect early bets for the next round. The Frenchman frequently pointed at Holmes as the detective readied himself for the fight. Watson moved to the bar to obtain some water for his friend and returned to help Holmes remove his shirt. The doctor eyed his companion wearily, noticing partially faded bruises already covering the man's torso. "Holmes," he said, "you've been frequenting these fights too often of late."

Sherlock seemed to pay the comment no mind as he stretched and twisted. Watson, however, was not satisfied to let the matter drop. Too often he had to put his friend back together after these bouts and he didn't enjoy the fact that Holmes was continually pressing his luck.

"Come on Holmes," he chided, "you beat yourself up far too much for my liking. One of these days you are going to break something I cannot fix."

Holmes huffed in annoyance as he twisted himself to the side. "Calm yourself mother hen. We already discussed this. You know I can take it. Besides, there haven't been many cases of late and upon you insistence," at this he sneered at Watson, "I have tried not to turn to the needle to dull my senses, as it were. What else am I to do?"

To that Watson had no reply. He merely handed the water to Holmes and watched him lap it up like a greedy puppy. He just became painfully aware of the true affect his absence has had over the generally unshakable detective. He knew the sudden turn from drugs was an attempt to please the doctor in the hopes that it might entice him to visit more often. Still, Watson was no longer his constant companion and without that presence Holmes needed something to occupy his time. Watson made a vow right then and there to visit his friend more often if only to prevent further harm. He owed him as much, particularly after tonight.

A great crash sounded from the ring. Both men turned to see that the bout had finished, Buford had indeed come out on top.

"Ha!" the large man cried. "Who else wants to test their strength against the mighty Goliath!"

Watson sighed as he took the cup from Holmes "Well David I believe he is calling for you."

Holmes cocked an eyebrow and set a playful grin across his face. "Quite right," he said, "I believe it is time to see just how the mighty do fall."

**I hope you enjoy the image of shirtless Holmes. I know I do.**

**Next up, Holmes dances! lol**

**Reviews always welcome! I adore reviews and thank you so much to all who have already reviewed. Lots of love.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Okay so somehow the end of my chapter didn't actually make it to the post. It's just a little bit but I thought it was a better ending to this chapter than where it did end. I should have the next chapter up very soon. I caught the writing bug and went crazy.**

Holmes sauntered into the ring, the very image of calm with his hands clasped behind his back. "I believe you were calling for me, my friend."

Buford looked at his new opponent with a mixture of shock and incredulity. "Ha, ha, ha, ha" he laughed, "so this little man thinks he can best Buford's strength."

Holmes was quick to jump in, " Oh I was under the impression your name was Goliath," His tone the perfect gentleman. "No matter, I shall do my best. "

"You're going to need more than that," said he through another fit of laughter.

"Gentlemen," Trouvaux moved between the two fighters, "I assume you are both ready for the match. Remember zat I wish to keep things civilized. No weapons and no aid from outside zis ring, understood?" Both men nodded. "Bon! Once I sound ze bell you may begin." Trouvaux made his way over to a silver bell and picked up a small hammer, allowing his hand to hover for a moment. With a quick wink towards Holmes, he let the hammer fall.

The two men danced around each other, attempting to anticipate the other's attack. Well Buford was. Holmes on the other hand, still had his hands behind his back and did not appear at all concerned with the current match. It was clear, however, that Sherlock possessed a greater amount of patience for soon enough Buford came at him with a surprisingly quick jab. Holmes easily evaded it of course, but instead of retaliating he twirled around in an obstinate fashion. To Watson he looked like some drunken ballerina unaware of the current danger. The doctor disapproved of how often the man played around in these fights and constantly found himself praying that his friend's luck would continue to hold lest he find himself at the wrong end of a very heavy fist. (Of course it would be Watson's duty to tend to him if that were the case.)

As such, the match continued. Holmes pranced around the arena, dodging this punch here and that kick there. So much so that it began to irritate his burly opponent causing Buford to cry out, "Quit your messin about and fight like a true man!" This, Watson knew, was a mistake.

"Very well," was Holmes' only reply. He then switched to the offense and landed a quick right hook to the big man's face. He then brought his elbow back to collide with Buford's left cheek so it appeared as though Holmes had backhanded his opponent. Bringing his left knee up to Buford's stomach, Holmes finished off the series with a left hook that sent the behemoth crashing toward the ground.

Buford was slow to recover but a crooked grin contorted his face as he righted himself. " Ah, sopthe little fairy can fight after all, "he taunted, " You caught me off guard this time but it won't happen again."

Watson realized that the smile came from Buford's realization that he finally found an opponent worth fighting. Looking back he noticed the coy smirk lighting his friends own face and was certain that although Buford had met his match, Sherlock Holmes had not.

The bout continued for a bit longer, each man getting in their fair share of good hits. Watson could tell Holmes was merely fooling around and was only taking hits to keep his opponent interested. He understood the reason behind it. Holmes excelled at many things, which made it incredibly difficult to find a challenge. In the matches he didn't have to think. It was as though they gave him the power to turn off his constantly working mind and with it came a sense of freedom few rarely experienced. Still, Buford had managed a punch that left Holmes lip bloody and Watson had seen enough.

"Finish it Holmes!" He cried. Although he understood the reasons, he certainly did not enjoy the sight of his friend being beaten.

"Yes Holmes," Buford sneered, "Finish it! Your lady's waitin."

Holmes merely chuckled, "Did you hear that Watson? He thinks you belong to me."

Allowing himself a small smile, Watson couldn't help but reflect on the truth there may have been in that statement, for if Holmes managed to regain the doctor's loses, he would certainly be in debt to his friend (and Holmes would be sure to remind him of it). There would be time to think of that later. For now, he kept a close eye on the detective who, although there was no doubt of his victory, would still need tending to afterwards.

Holmes made quick work of his foolish foe. First he leveled a right jab at Buford's face, simultaneously blocking a right hook. After a roundhouse kick to the diaphraghm, which was sure to leave his opponent with a few bruised if not cracked ribs, Holmes spun, connecting with his left elbow. He then finished it off with a double punch to the chest and used a right upper cut for his grand finale. Bufford crashed to the ground with a resounding thump. He would not be in any shape to fight for the next few weeks at least.

The crowd descended into silence, gawking at the surprising spectacle before them. (Holmes always made himself a spectacle, Watson thought) All at once a chorus of shouts sprang up around the arena, the men marveling at the unexpected outcome.

"It's about time!" one man crowed.

"Indeed!" said another

To Watson, however, it was just another match in which Holmes, against all odds, defeated his opponent in the ring. Just an everyday occurrence really. Coming to lean against the panels by Watson, Holmes smiled as he said, "Mere child's play."

Watson was not so amused. "You took too much unnecessary punishment."

"Psshaw," he said, "nothing but a few bumps and bruises."

"Hmph, says you. One of these days you will find yourself unable to stand after such a match."

Holmes laughed drunkenly, "Well that is what I have you for, my dear."

Watson sighed at the futility of his argument. He could threaten otherwise but he knew as well as Holmes did that the doctor would be instantly at his friend's side should any misfortune befall him. A gruff shout drew their attention to the center of the ring. "You, Mr. Holmes!"

"I am indeed," was his cocky reply. The man, a bald headed rock nearly as tall as Buford and twice as broad, was clearly another competitor. Holmes was just as clearly set to face him.

"You think you're invincible," bellowed the man, "but the whole town knows there ain't a soul alive that could beat me and me brother." As he spoke a smaller man walked out form behind him with bent knees and hands that curled inwards like claws. He looked akin to a wild animal and had a vicious look to his eyes that would scare off even the stoutest of men. Of course Holmes didn't seem at all perturb by his opponents.

"I take it you wish to challenge me."

"That's the idea."

Holmes seemed to consider this a moment, "But there are two of you. Surely you wouldn't mind my enlisting of a partner."

The speaker of the pair guffawed, "We wouldn't dream of fightin ya unfair like. Find yourself a partner, thought it won't do ya much good."

"What do you say Watson? Care to help me win back some of your money?"

"You have already won back what I need" Watson said, casting a nervous glance at the duo, "I do not think this is wise."

"If we did what was wise we wouldn't be here in the first place." Holmes looked at Watson with something bordering on pleading in his eyes "Besides, my challenger fights with his brother, I'd be much obliged if I could fight with mine."

It was a tactic Watson found impossible to resist and Holmes knew it, although the doctor wasn't sure that the fond look that had replaced the pleading one was something the detective had realized he was doing. "Alright," he said, removing his jacket. Holmes' face lit up instantly.

"Very well gentlemen, we have a deal." The crowd roared their approval.

Watson, now bare-chested with the exception of his two suspender straps, maneuvered himself into the ring.

The little animal that was passing as a human cackled and snarled at them "Of all the people he can choose and he chooses a gimp."

Clearly he had noticed Watson's limp and thought it gave him an advantage. The intrepid pair merely grinned at one another. He wasn't the first to underestimate the doctor and he was about to learn firsthand what a grave mistake that was. "Let's make this quick Holmes, I have more of an aversion to pain than you do."

"Oh my dear doctor that's half the fun."

Watson gave his companion a well worn look of contempt. He had just enough time to wonder what he had gotten himself into when…

DING!

**So that was the true chapter end. Hope you like it.**


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